


tell me how we're not alike

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: College AU, Enemies to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Out, barista!wonwoo, bio!junhui, english!wonwoo, i'm struggling with the tags but that's okay, journalist!wonwoo, please comment if you enjoy, they argue a lot, this is basically just me projecting myself onto wonwoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24557995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Wonwoo hates biology.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 7
Kudos: 77





	tell me how we're not alike

**Author's Note:**

  * For [junhuist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/junhuist/gifts).



Wonwoo wants to scream. It’s seven in the morning on a Saturday, and he’s stuck in some lab with a boy he barely knows. And to make it even worse, it’s a biology lab. Biology.

Wonwoo  _ hates  _ biology.

Even moreso, he hates his English teacher for pairing him with somebody who is quite obviously only taking the class to meet the standard college requirement. And he hates the fact that this kid is a biology major, because  _ fuck  _ biology majors. And, to top it off, the dude’s kinda good looking, and science nerds have no business being attractive.

Okay, that last one is a bit hypocritical. As a fellow self-proclaimed “nerd,” Wonwoo realizes he probably shouldn’t be making fun of them.

But still, he’s not a STEM nerd. He’s an English nerd, arguably the better—and more rewarding—of the two.

He hisses when he smells the chemical his partner—his name is Junhui, but Wonwoo thinks that biology majors shouldn’t have pretty names, so he rarely refers to the other in that fashion—is using to clean whatever odd animal brain is lying in front of them. “That smells like shit,” he says point blank, glaring when the other glances at him. 

Junhui groans, obviously exasperated. “It’s a biology experiment, you idiot. It’s not supposed to smell good, it’s supposed to smell like  _ science. _ ”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes as he forcefully—but carefully, as it’s his most prized possession and also the lifeline of his future journalism career—yanks his laptop out of his backpack. “Science sucks.”

Junhui groans again, and Wonwoo wonders if he’s contemplating how believable the “it was an accident, the knife just slipped” excuse would be. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to find out, because Junhui points mental daggers at him instead and asks if Wonwoo’s ready to start his notetaking. “Also, taste is subjective, you egotistical asshole.”

Wonwoo just sighs and grimaces when he realizes what’s about to happen. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He lets a moment pass. “Also, do I look like I care? It’s not my fault that biology is the worst subject ever.”

“Can we just start? We’ll have time for petty arguments later.”

“Sure, we can argue at a later date. Hopefully it’s not at seven in the morning again.”

Junhui elbows him in the side. Wonwoo knows he deserves it.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Somehow, the two make it through the rest of the experiment mostly unscathed. Junhui accidentally cuts his finger—through the glove, too, Wonwoo wonders if all biology majors are this clumsy—and he uses the first aid kit in his bag to bandage it up. He doesn’t know  _ why  _ his hands start tingling as he carefully uses an alcohol wipe and a sturdy band aid, or  _ why  _ he suddenly can’t focus on the page in front of him, or  _ why  _ all he wants to do is smash random keys on his keyboard until it’s full.

He does let himself think that the other’s hands look absolutely  _ perfect  _ for playing the piano, and he wonders why he would choose  _ biology  _ over a potential music career.

While the two clean up and make plans to write the article, Wonwoo lets his mind wander a bit more, and he scowls when it goes back to the feeling of Junhui’s hand under his.

Secretly, he wonders how the other’s hands would feel while caressing his face. 

(He also admits to himself that while he still thinks biology is the work of the devil, Junhui isn’t quite as bad.)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The next time they see each other is a few days after the lab fiasco, and it’s also unplanned.

Wonwoo works at a cafe when he has the time, and he’s learned that Junhui is a coffee addict, so it’s not really a surprise when he meanders in with a few of his friends in tow. He  _ is  _ surprised, however, when all Junhui orders is an iced americano, the most basic drink on their menu.

He shakes his head and laughs. “Didn’t think you’d go for that, you’ve managed to surprise me yet again.”

Junhui meets his eyes, and Wonwoo can see the exhaustion resting upon his dark circles. “Believe me, it’s not my first choice. I’m running off of like, 3 hours of sleep.”

Wonwoo winces and then gestures for his coworker to manage the register as he makes Junhui’s drink. “Long nights at the lab?”

Junhui nods in exhaustion. “Yeah.”

Wonwoo almost feels bad for him, but then he remembers that Junhui’s in the lab for  _ biology _ , not chemistry, and that they’re supposed to be  _ enemies _ . “Well, Mr. Biology, that sounds like a you problem.” 

He almost immediately regrets that sentence. Junhui huffs in annoyance. “Thought we were friendly now, but I guess not.” He grabs his drink from the counter where Wonwoo has placed it, then strides away without a look behind him.

Fuck. Wonwoo knows he screwed up.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They ignore the tension between them when they meet up in Wonwoo’s apartment to complete the second part of their assignment. Wonwoo writes half of the article and Junhui writes the other half, and when they’re finished, Wonwoo edits the hell out of it. Out loud. For the sole purpose of making Junhui mad.

“See, here, you made this too wordy. And the dash, really? A semicolon fits much better,” he critiques.

Junhui throws his hands up. “Alright, you caught me! My grammar isn’t the best! Not what you expected at all, of course, right Mr. English Major? Right?”

Wonwoo side eyes him. “I’m editing  _ our  _ article. I could just stop here, you know, and we could fail this assignment, and the class, and eventually, we could flunk out of college.”

“You’re so fucking irritating,” Junhui spits, grabbing the computer out of Wonwoo’s hands and bringing the screen close to his face. He reads it, and when he’s done, he all but slams the screen shut and places it on the coffee table in front of the couch they’re sitting on. “It’s literally perfect, I don’t know what you’re getting all worked up about. We’re gonna get an A on it, it doesn’t need more editing.”

Wonwoo stares at the closed laptop and contemplates 1. kicking Junhui out and finishing the editing on his own, or 2. leaving the article as it is because it’s nearly ten in the evening and they’ve been working on it since early afternoon. Deep down, he knows Junhui is right, so he decides to go with the second option. “Fine,” he states simply. 

“Fine?” Junhui questions. “Did the narcissistic asshole finally accept that sometimes I’m actually right?”

Wonwoo stares at Junhui. He's in a maroon shirt and grey sweatpants, and he’s sitting forward with his elbows perched on his knees. He’s looking way too pretty for Wonwoo's liking. And if he’s honest, he curses himself for being so petty over a school subject and ruining any possible relationship before one could be properly kindled. He curses the way Junhui’s hands felt in his (like home), and he curses his sarcastic personality (the one that got him in trouble in the first place), and he curses the fact that Junhui is sitting right next to him looking like  _ that _ , and all he wants to do is say something out of pocket so the other gives in and kisses him. “Why are you calling  _ me _ a narcissistic asshole?  _ You’re  _ the one who’s studying biology.”

Junhui’s eyes snap up, and Wonwoo feels them piercing his skin. He does what he does best—pretends he doesn’t know what he did. He sits there, smirking, while Junhui repositions himself on the couch. He moves closer to Wonwoo until they’re less than a foot apart, and Wonwoo doesn’t let their eyes leave each other until Junhui reaches out and grabs a fistful of his turtleneck, pulling him even closer. “You,” he says in a low tone, “have  _ got  _ to stop with this hating biology shit. It’s getting on my nerves.”

Wonwoo acts like his heart isn’t beating too fast for his liking. “And if I don’t?”

Junhui doesn’t answer, just pushes Wonwoo’s back against the couch and kisses him hard.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Wonwoo’s going to  _ die _ . He does his best to kiss back, propping himself on his hands so he at least has  _ some  _ leverage against the other. It’s to no avail, and Wonwoo realizes this when Junhui places one of his hands behind his back and nearly hurts Wonwoo while pulling the latter’s shirt over his head.

“You—” The hand is in Wonwoo’s hair now. “Are—” Junhui’s lips leave his own and harsh kisses are suddenly being pressed against his jawline. “Insane.” He finds the sensitive spot near Wonwoo’s collarbone.

“Junhui,” he gasps, arching his back slightly. “I have  _ work  _ tomorrow.”

Junhui lifts his head and gazes at Wonwoo. He presses a finger against his lips as he leans past his face. “I have makeup, if that’s alright,” he whispers into Wonwoo’s ear.

His voice is so gentle, so  _ fragile _ , that all Wonwoo can do is melt and nod his head.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


By the time they’re both out of breath, Wonwoo’s collarbone is littered in forming bruises, and every touch against it makes him squirm. He sits up fully, caressing Junhui’s face and pressing one final kiss on his swollen lips. And because he’s scared of what’s going to happen after this, and because he doesn’t want to reveal the underlying love within their interactions, he lets his emotions get the better of him. “By the way, Junhui, this doesn’t change anything between us. This means nothing to me.”

Junhui’s face darkens, and he pushes Wonwoo’s back against the couch once more before standing up. “I should go,” he mumbles, avoiding eye contact. “I’m going to go.”

He lingers for a minute at the entrance to the apartment, and Wonwoo wonders if he’s waiting for him to yell the classic “Wait, don’t go!” line that’s in all romance movies.

Wonwoo’s not one for romance movies.

He just lays on his couch, trembling, as Junhui slams the door behind him.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They don’t talk for a week. Wonwoo goes to work with his collarbone covered—albeit terribly—by the green color corrector and the foundation that he mysteriously finds on his doorstep the next morning.

To distract himself that night, Wonwoo edits the article for another hour before submitting it. 

In the three days it takes for their grade to come back, he’s restless, and he  _ knows  _ that his uneasiness isn’t due to the impact of a potential B on his college transcript.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They end up getting an A on the article. They get an A, and Wonwoo wants to celebrate, but it’s been almost a week since Junhui slammed the apartment door as he left, and Wonwoo still doesn’t know what to do about their situation.

When there’s a knock on Wonwoo’s door, he’s scared to open it, but he knows he has to. It’s Junhui, as expected, and he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“What are you doing here?” Wonwoo voices his thoughts.

“I came to get my makeup.” He looks down, and Wonwoo’s suddenly aware that his white shirt is nearly see-through. “You don’t look like you need it anymore.”

Wonwoo silently props his door open and walks to the bathroom. He grabs the concealer and color corrector from the edge of his sink and takes his time returning to Junhui.

“There you go,” he says simply, dropping the two items into the other’s open hands and avoiding any direct contact. “By the way, we got an A on our article.”

“Oh. That’s good, I guess. You worked hard on it.”

Wonwoo sticks his hands in his pocket and awkwardly shifts his weight from side to side. “You worked hard on it too, you know.” He exhales. “I’ll see you in class?”

Junhui stands, unmoving. “That’s it? No ‘Mr. Biology’ at the end? No biting sarcasm?”

There’s a lonely look in his eyes, and Wonwoo’s over this coldness. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I’ve been an asshole, I’m sorry.”

Junhui drops his gaze to the ground, but not before Wonwoo sees a tear roll down his cheek.

“Hey,” Wonwoo whispers. He moves forward and pries the makeup from his fists, setting it upon his outside table. “Don’t cry, I’m sorry. Why are you crying?”

“Did you mean—” Junhui’s voice cracks. “Did you mean what you said the other night? That what happened meant nothing to you?”

He looks up, expectantly, and Wonwoo finds that his eyes are full of teardrops threatening to spill. He reaches over and rests a hand upon his shoulder. “No, I didn’t mean that. I was scared of my own feelings, and in turn I was an asshole, and I’m sorry.” Junhui smiles softly, and Wonwoo takes that as a sign to continue. He falters for a moment before he confesses. “I like you, Junhui, I do, and I’m sorry it took so long for me to admit it. I like you a lot, and the other night meant a lot to me. I’m sorry.”

This time, it’s Junhui’s turn to fall silent. He removes Wonwoo’s hand from his shoulder and instead pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. By its end, they’re both crying, and when they pull away, Junhui leans in and kisses away the fallen tears before kissing his lips. “I like you too,” he says quietly.

Wonwoo forgets how to speak properly, so he just smiles and pulls Junhui inside his apartment. They let the door fall shut and Wonwoo presses him against the back of it. Wonwoo leans in, kissing him sloppily but passionately, and suddenly he hopes that nobody steals the makeup from outside.

He thinks they’re going to need it for the next few weeks.


End file.
